CHAPTER FIVE

Olivia Tucker lived in a basic run-of-the-mill apartment in Jackson Heights. When Kate and DeMarco arrived, she was being visited by a local preacher. It was the preacher who answered the door, a tall black man who looked very somber and sad. He regarded the agents skeptically and sighed softly.

“Can I help you ladies?”

“We need to speak with Mrs. Tucker,” DeMarco said. “Who might you be?”

“I’m Leland Toombs, the pastor of her church. And who might you be?”

They went through the usual routine of showing their IDs and introducing themselves. Toombs took a tentative step back and gave them a disapproving look.

“You understand she is in a very distressed state, right?”

“Of course,” Kate said. “We’re trying to find her son’s killer and we are hoping she might be able to shed some light to help.”

“Who is that?” a shaky voice called from elsewhere in the apartment. A woman stepped into view from another room and started for the door.

“It’s the FBI,” Leland told her. “But Olivia, I’d suggest you take a moment to think about if you are ready to speak with them.”

Olivia Tucker came to the door looking an absolute mess. Her eyes were bloodshot and it looked like she was even having trouble walking. She looked at Kate and DeMarco and then placed a reassuring hand on Toombs’s shoulder.

“Yes, I think I need to,” she said. “Pastor Toombs, would you give me a moment?”

“I think maybe I should be here when they speak with you.”

She shook her head. “No. I appreciate it, but I need to do this part on my own.”

Toombs frowned and then looked at Kate and DeMarco. “Please be kind. She is not taking this well.” He then gave Olivia one final look and stepped out of the door while calling over his shoulder, “Please call me if you need anything, Olivia.”

Olivia watched him go and then slowly closed the door behind her. “Please, come on into the living room.”

Her voice was soft and ragged and she still walked as if her legs weren’t quite sure what they were doing.

“Did you know,” she said as they entered the living room, “that the cops called me and told me what had happened a full six hours after his body was found?”

“Why so long?” Kate asked.

“I suppose they assumed Missy would call and tell me. They told her first, of course. But it was later, after Missy had refused, that the police finally called.”

“Are you sure she refused?” DeMarco asked. “Given the nature of what happened, do you think she simply forgot?”

Olivia shrugged, but not as an I don’t know gesture. It was more of an I don’t care.

“Do you mean to tell me that you think Missy would have done something like that on purpose?” Kate asked.

“Honestly, I just don’t know. The woman is vindictive as hell. I wouldn’t put much of anything beyond her. She probably forgot so she wouldn’t have to speak to me or, God forbid, see me.”

“Want to tell us why you seem to dislike her so much?” DeMarco asked.

“Oh, I never liked her, not really. She was quite charming at first, when she was trying to earn my good graces. But the moment Jack put that engagement ring on her finger, she became some other person. Controlling. Manipulative. She has never appreciated the plush little life she has. She may have loved Jack deep down in some sick, twisted way—I don’t doubt that. But she never appreciated him.”

“Can you explain that a bit more?” Kate asked.

“She was always wanting something else—wanting more. And she made no secret of it. Everything she had, no matter what it was—kids, wealthy husband, beautiful house, you name it—it was never enough. Nothing Jack ever did was good enough for her.”

Kate noticed the look of absolute venom in Olivia’s face as she spoke. She believed every single word she was saying. But from the little bit of time Kate had spent with Missy Tucker, she found it all very hard to believe.

“Do you know if Jack felt this way about her?”

“God, no. He was so blinded by it all. By her and her little act.”

“So you’d comfortably rule out the idea of him being involved in an affair?”

Her look of shock was all the answer Kate needed. But Olivia had some choice words, too. “Given what I’ve been through the last few hours, how dare you ask such a stupid question? Are you trying to be insensitive and rude?”

“I ask only because that would at least give us somewhere to start looking. If he was involved in something like that, it would give us a series of leads to pursue. Because quite frankly, as of now, we have no witnesses and no suspects.”

“Suspects? Honey, I’ve already told you who did it. It was his hateful wife.”

Kate and DeMarco shared an uneasy glance. Whether Oliva Tucker’s statement was true or not, this case was going to get quite awkward before it was brought to a close.

Kate let the comment hang in the air for a moment before going on. When she did, she was sure to use her words carefully, choosing each one with great purpose.

“Are you sure you want to make such a bold statement?” Kate asked. “If you’re serious about that, I have to consider it a lead and start pursuing Missy Tucker as a potential suspect.”

“You do your job the way you want,” Olivia said. “But I know that woman. She wanted something different. She wanted out, but without the risk of losing everything in the process. Now you tell me some easier way to go about doing that than killing your husband.”

Throughout all of her career, Kate didn’t think she’d ever met anyone who was so blinded with hatred for someone else—in-laws, estranged siblings, and so on, she’d seen it all. But Olivia Tucker took things to a whole different level.

“I have to point out,” DeMarco said, “that a great deal of time on our trip out here was spent going over everything there was to know about both Jack and Missy. While we don’t have full reports by any means, there was more than enough to see that there was no marital discord strong enough to ping any legal issues.”

“That’s right,” Kate said. “Additionally, there were no financial troubles, no marks on her criminal record, nothing like that. You, on the other hand, do have a slight mark on your record. Do you want to tell me about the night Missy had to call the cops because you were trying to get into their home?”

“Jack was having a hard time at work. He’d had a panic attack. I called to check on him and to talk to my grandkids, but Missy wasn’t allowing it. She told me that Jack was too nice to say anything, but that I was part of the reason for his panic attack. She hung up on me when I called so I decided to go to their house. We had it out and she shoved me out the door, refusing to let me into the house. After that…well, I let my temper get the best of me and she called the police.”

“If we need to, we’ll look into that,” Kate said “But honestly, there is nothing we have seen and nothing in the records to indicate that Missy would have had any reason at all to kill her husband. There’s no motive that we can see.”

“Well, if you’re that convinced, why the hell are you even here to speak with me?”

“Honestly?” DeMarco said. “It’s because your name came up. One of Jack’s co-workers overheard him having a heated conversation with his wife about you. We checked your records just to cover our bases and found out about the police call.”

Olivia smiled the sort of smile often seen on tired villains in movies. “Well then, it seems you already have your mind made up about me.”

“That’s not the case at all. We just—”

“If you ladies don’t mind, I’m going to politely ask you to leave. I’d like to properly grieve my son.”

Kate knew that their time with Olivia Tucker was over; if she kept pressing, the woman would only shut down. Besides that, she had been useless for information—unless the vile feelings she had toward her daughter-in-law could be seen as truth. And Kate doubted there was anything to it.

“Thank you,” Kate said. “And we are truly sorry for your loss.”

Olivia nodded, got up, and walked out of the room. “I’m sure you remember where the door is,” she said, before disappearing elsewhere into the house.

Kate and DeMarco took their leave, no closer to a solid lead but having been thoroughly rattled by Olivia Tucker’s views on Missy.

“You think there’s a shred of truth to any of it?” DeMarco asked. She seemed to be coming out of her funk, apparently motivated by the case.

“I think in this moment, while she’s searching for answers to what happened, she thinks some of it is true. I think she’s taking little nuggets of fears she’s had over the years and amplifying them just to have some object to place her blame and rage on.”

DeMarco nodded as they got into the car. “Whatever it was, it was ugly.”

“And I think it rules her out of any foul play. We may want to keep an eye on Missy, though, just to keep her safe. Maybe even let local PD know how unhinged Olivia seems to be.”

“And then what?”

“And then we regroup. Possibly over a glass or two of wine back at the hotel.”

It sounded like a good idea but Kate continued to think of Missy Tucker and how her world was now very much an empty shell of what it had once been. Kate remembered all too well what it felt like to lose the man you loved, the man who knew you like a book he’d read millions of times. It was heartbreaking beyond words and drained the life out of you.

Revisiting that feeling in that moment, as she headed toward the hotel, made her more motivated that ever. It made her reach back into her memories to where details of the first case rested, back where the Nobilini case had started.

Her mind tried to latch onto a name—a name she knew well but that had faded into the deeper regions of her memory. It was a name she was reminded of earlier in the day, when they had met with Jack Tucker’s friends at the yacht club.

Cass Nobilini.

You know there are answers there, Kate thought.

There might be. And she’d go looking for them if it came to that.

But she really hoped it wouldn’t. She hoped she could make it the rest of her life never seeing Cass Nobilini again. But she also knew the chances of that were very slim—that she may, in fact, be seeing her sooner rather than later.